31
HARLOW
t took me roughly a half-hour of stumbling around in the dark streets of theI fort’s fourth level, but it was worth it. Explicit story hour at the Raining Star Bar is way better than I expected.
My glamour necklace from Aidia came in handy. The last thing I need is for someone to recognize me. I’ll just listen to a few stories while Henry is out sulking, and I’ll be back before he even knows I’m gone. I feel a little guilty, but I think Aidia will forgive me for the frivolous use of her gift when I have stories to bring her from the Mountain Haven storytellers themselves.
I used as little magic as I could, just changing my appearance enough to not be instantly recognized. I made my hair a honey-blonde, my eyes a dark brown, and my face slightly rounder.
No one in the bar has given me a second look, even the men at the table next to me, one of whom I recognize as one of the guards who was stationed in the room for the consummation ritual last night. If a man who watched me come so hard I broke an ancient sigil doesn’t recognize me, no one else in this bar will.
I sip my wine and glance around the room at the array of auras. Lots of Divine blessings are represented. The current storyteller, a hearty woman named Nicolina, looks to be in her fifties, with a bright golden aura, long, dark hair, and a smooth, confident delivery.
According to the man at the table next to mine, who quietly complained to his friend when she announced what tale she’d be telling for the night, this
is a frequently requested story.
The tale reimagines the Drained not as soulless, bloodthirsty, gray- skinned-beasts, but as handsome, playful huntsmen who just happened to occasionally sip some blood. Like the huntsman from the tales of Stellaria— the Deathless. Men born of both realms—who didn’t belong entirely to either one.
I was inclined to agree with the man beside me that it sounded silly before she started, but the moment she opened her mouth and began to speak, she had my full attention.
“Rayleen ran as fast as she could through the dark forest, branches and vines tearing at her nightdress and auburn hair. Her heart pounded. She knew what she was doing when she baited him, but now that she’d slapped him and run off, it was only a matter of time until he caught her and claimed her.”
A chorus of whistles and whooping goes through the crowd.
Nicolina grins and holds up her hands to silence them. “Rayleen paused for a moment just to listen to hear how close he was. But there was nothing but the breeze blowing through the boughs above her. So she turned and ran again. A moment later, she was tackled to the dirt, the wind knocked out of her.”
The storyteller pauses again while the crowd cheers and clinks their glasses. “She was flipped onto her back to look up into Victor’s angry eyes.
Do you have anything you’d like to say to me? But Rayleen just bit her lip and shook her head. She was surrendering to him completely, not using her chance to opt out, and he was thrilled she’d finally agreed to be his. He shoved her nightdress up and found her already wet and aching just from the chase. He fucked her roughly with his fingers, pinning her to the ground by her neck.”
The room is so quiet, I feel like everyone must be able to hear my pounding heart. But when I glance around, auras flare all over the bar.
Everyone is just as excited as I am.
“He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into her mouth, making her gag, holding his hand there to remind her that he was fully in control now,”
Nicolina continues. “Then, he unbuttoned his pants, grabbed his thick cock, and plunged it into her. They say you could hear her keening wail of pleasure from a mile away, but Victor showed her no mercy. He was eager to claim her and the faster she came, the sooner he’d be able to make her his. He fucked her savagely, dirt and gravel digging into the tender skin of her back,
his hand squeezing her throat as he felt her climax growing imminent.
Rayleen started to panic from the lack of air and the awareness that they were being watched from the shadows by many other people. Victor ripped her dress down the front so that everyone could enjoy the show.”
I clench my thighs together, remembering how hot I’d felt when Henry ripped my slip during the ritual.
“He bit her nipples and cut off all her air, until her pussy was leaking, clenching and unclenching. Then he finally let go. She drew in a deep breath and her release hit her like a storm. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as she convulsed. Victor kept his pace, and right as she was reaching her thigh-trembling, back-arching peal, he sank his fangs into her neck and began to drink, and a second orgasm hit her. She screamed and cried and clawed at his back, the pleasure driving her half-mad until finally Victor buried himself deep inside her and found his release.”
The crowd applauds and shouts lewd encouragement to the fake lovers, and Nicolina waits for them to settle before continuing.
“Rayleen lay there, feeling the warmth of his venom coursing through her along with a newfound need for more of him. Victor gave her no time to recover. He withdrew and shoved her legs wide for the onlookers to see and announced her as his claimed. Rayleen didn’t stop him. She was eager to do anything to make him happy and excited to see whether he would use her himself or if he would share her with others, because her night was just beginning.”
Nicolina lifts her arms, and the crowd claps and cheers as she bows.
Imagination is not something that my family ever tried to cultivate in me, unless it was imaginative ways to kill someone and make it look accidental.
I’m amazed at the creativity of these women and the bold way they tell scandalous stories so casually.
I’m hardly inexperienced, but it’s one thing to read something in the quiet of your room and quite another to perform it.
The guard at the table beside me nudges my arm. I almost jump out of my skin for fear I’ve been found out, but he just passes me a basket.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Tips for the teller,” he says, nodding to Nicolina.
I’m at the end of the row of tables, so I toss a few coins into the basket.
When Nicolina steps off the small, raised stage, I stand and hand it to her.
“Sweet girl, you look pale,” Nicolina says, touching my cheek in a gentle
maternal way. “It’s just a story. Like the ones a man tells when he wants to get you into his bed. They’re just to excite and entice. They make the monsters seem less monstrous. They remind us we have survived and endured enough to find pleasure. You are a sweet thing to be here alone for this.”
I purse my lips. “I’m not as sweet as I look.”
She tips her head back and cackles. “Well, if that’s the case, that gentleman at the table beside you is known to be not very sweet either. I’ve heard rave reviews from the ladies. He’s always here for this particular hour.
I think you’ve caught his eye.”
Sure enough, when I glance back at the table, he’s smiling at me in the cocky, knowing way of men who have no clue who they’re dealing with.
“Thanks for the tip, Nicolina,” I whisper as I walk back to my seat.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” the man says as I slink back into my seat.
I watch him over the rim of my glass as I take a sip of wine. “I’m sure
you’d remember if we had.”
He cocks his head. “I’m sure I would.”
I hold out my hand. “Eve.”
“Brennan.” He takes it and presses a kiss to my knuckles. It’s a bit over the top, but he’s clearly counting on me being a woman who loves a romance story, so I guess it makes sense.
“And what do you do, Brennan?” I try to sound playful instead of bored.
I know he’s a guard. I vaguely remember Gaven mentioning his name, but he’s reported so many things to me in the past few days, it’s all a bit jumbled in my brain. The fact that I know the name and face means that he must be somewhat important.
These next few moments are critical. I need to make a quick and accurate study of him. Fortunately, I’m attuned to the mercurial nature of men.
The fastest way to learn a lesson is to incorrectly assess a threat. I’ve made it a point to only pick fights I can win. My father has taught me many things, but none so vital as how to size up an opponent.
Brennan is drunk. His aura is dark purple. He’s blessed by Elvodeen.
Most of the hunters seem to be blessed by the Divine of Strength, and that alone tells me a bit about how to get to him.
“I’m a hunter. I guard the walls.” He looks so proud of himself.
“Oh,” I say, forcing a smile. “There’s so many of you out there all the
time.”
He frowns. “I’m actually a group leader.”
I feign embarrassment. “Oh? So you are in charge of a few men? I’m afraid I just don’t understand the hierarchy.”
It’s just dismissive enough for him to want to prove himself.
Brennan takes an exaggerated look over his shoulder, like he’s worried he’s going to get caught sharing something important, then leans in close. “I lead a group of twenty men, and we handle very dangerous assignments.”
“Like venturing into the woods?” I suggest.
He scoffs. “Like guarding a Drained we caught.”
My shock is genuine this time. “Caught?”
He leans in and offers a cocky smile. “A new evolution of them. They call it a Breeder.”
“I don’t understand.” I try to think back to when I was at home talking to Kellan. I don’t remember him ever mentioning an evolution of the Drained.
However, there have been five breaches in the last six months at home.
There were only two breaches all of last year. Something has changed.
Brennan glances around us again. “I really shouldn’t talk about it out in the open, but I have a room upstairs for the night. A little privacy would surely loosen my lips.”
I should have seen this coming, but between the explicit story and the surprisingly helpful information, I had completely stopped thinking about
why he was telling me.
I place my hand in his. “Lead the way.”
Brennan guides me down a dark hallway next to the bar, his hand on my lower back the whole way. It’s an effort not to fidget. The silk is thin and I don’t need him feeling my scar.
We take a flight of stairs up to the second floor. He leads me to the second door on the right and shepherds me inside.
Before he can pounce on me, I turn to face him. “It sounds dangerous to be around an evolved Drained. Why is it here? How do you protect yourself?
What if it escapes?”
He gestures to the bed, and I sit down on the edge.
“We’ve noticed over the past six months or so that the Drained have seemed more strategic. Where they used to just mindlessly chase blood and bash themselves against the gates and walls, they now will work together to breach at weak spots. Groups of them don’t fight over a kill. They collaborate
to try to break through. For months, it’s felt like they were testing us. Seeing how we responded to different types of breaches and then retreating instead of pushing inside. So we went to investigate.”
“Into the Drained Wood?”
He puffs out his chest a little. “To find a lair.”
I was thinking he was putting on a show earlier, but what he’s describing is incredibly dangerous. Going into—or even near—a lair is a death sentence to even the most talented and magically gifted hunters.
“Did you?” I ask.
Brennan starts to pace. “We found a small one, but it was different than what we had discovered in the past. They had women.”
I stop breathing. Cold dread spreads through my body. “Human women?
Not turned?”
Like the human women who have been missing in Lunameade’s poorer neighborhoods. Could the Drained be sneaking in and stealing women away in the dark of night?
He nods. “They were—tied down in a compromising position.” He pauses. “The beasts have somehow found a way to bite them without turning them. They had bite marks all over their bodies, but they were still alive and still fully human.”
I stare at him, unable to fathom that I’m in a fort miles from the city with a forest full of newly evolved beasts between us. I feel breathless and claustrophobic, but also morbidly curious.
“Most of the women we recovered were too traumatized to speak, but one could. She didn’t remember how she got there, but she told us that the beasts had been breeding them to make more intelligent Drained. They grow quickly, and apparently the birthing process is a violent, bloody mess, so none of them survived it and —”
Brennan must see the horrified look on my face and realize this is not at all a good foreplay story.
“Hey, you don’t have to worry,” he says, his voice suddenly placating.
“We’re just trying to study what it does without blood for an extended time.
You know, to see if it devolves into something more animal like what we’re used to. That thing is locked up tight in the old holding cells by the armory and guarded by hunters. It’s not getting out.”
I stand with a start. “I’m so sorry, but I’m feeling quite unwell. I have to go.”
Dashing from the room before he can say anything else, I descend the stairs and charge across the bar.
Outside, I take in big gulps of cold air and sprint up the street toward the sixth level. Several people stare at me, but most just ignore me as if it’s totally normal to see a blonde woman in a fine silk dress sprinting through the fort this late at night.
I spot the armory up ahead and duck behind a small outbuilding. I grasp the star on my necklace and pull down my glamour. My face, eyes, and scalp itch as I transform back into myself. I ignore the sensation, continuing toward the smaller building behind the armory.
Rounding the corner, I draw up short. A group of five hunters is sitting in a circle, in the middle of a raucous candlelit card game. They’re gathered in front of a large steel door, each of them sitting on a wooden crate, their cards on a rickety-looking table in front of them.
The only other way in that I can see from here is a wooden staircase that leads up to the second floor and an equally heavy-looking steel door at the top.
This has to be the place. If resources in the fort are so slim, they wouldn’t have that many men guarding nothing.
I duck back around the corner and reverse course to the other side of the building. I eye an unstable-looking emergency ladder that leads to a window on the second floor.
I don’t want to go near the thing. I just want to see why they’re keeping it.
I place a tentative foot on the first rung of the ladder, slowly shifting my weight onto it. Mercifully, it doesn’t creak. I climb to the top, fighting the dress constantly tangling around my legs, and peer in the window. It’s dark inside and the glass is too dirty to see much.
There’s enough of a gap for me to wedge my fingers beneath the pane, and with a soft, labored moan of the wood, it opens.
I poke my head in. The air is musty and the room is quiet except for the soft patter of pacing footsteps down below. I pull myself up the rest of the way, struggling with my dress as I slide inside and onto an elevated catwalk about fifteen feet above the room.
The footsteps stop, and I freeze too, holding my breath as I peek over the railing. The Drained one is looking right at me.
It sniffs the air, and I swear to the Divine it smiles.
It’s the faintest upturn in the lips around vicious-looking teeth, but the room is dim enough that my mind could be playing tricks on me.
I expect the Breeder to be under guard, or at least locked in a cell, but it’s wandering freely on the ground floor. Those idiot hunters playing cards outside are probably supposed to be watching it, but when they decided to fool around instead, it took its chance to find a way out.
I duck down behind the wooden railing again. It’s time to go. I need to get out of here and tell Henry.
I still. Henry, who gave me a safe room today. Is this why he offered that gift?
Now isn’t the time to solve that mystery. I turn back to the window, but to my horror, Stefan Laurence’s face is there waiting for me.
“Hey, Carrenwell,” he says. His voice is all menace as he climbs over the windowsill.
I’m torn between the beast in front of me and the one down below.
I could make a run for it to the door on the other end of this catwalk, but it could be locked. If it’s not, my cover will be blown the moment I pop out
the door on the other side.
Better to live to see another day.
I jump to my feet and try to sprint toward the door, but I trip over the hem of my dress and my knees slam onto the wooden catwalk floor. I’ve had extensive training, but all of it was done in pants. There’s no accounting for the way a dress moves and tangles as I try to fight.
I spring up, but Stefan is on me. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back.
“Quite a show you put on last night,” Stefan taunts. “But I bet the beast down there would take you for a better ride.”
I’m vaguely aware of the sound of two other people at the window, their graceless climbing making it hard to hear where the Breeder is down below.
I twist, gripping Stefan’s wrist, and yank us both down toward the catwalk floor before slamming my head back into his face.
He curses and lets go of my hair. I grab the blade wedged in my boot and stab it into his side. He howls and backhands me so hard I stumble back into the arms of one of his minions.
“Grab her, Joe.” Stefan’s voice is muffled by the hands trying to stop his nose from bleeding.
Joe wraps an arm around my throat so tight I can barely breathe.
Stefan regains his composure and yanks me away from Joe. He wraps a fist around my hair and shoves the top half of my body over the railing.
I’m bent at the waist, perilously close to falling headfirst to the floor below. That alone might be enough to break my neck and kill me instantly, but I don’t want to find out. I try to shift my legs wider to brace myself, but my dress is tangled around them.
The Drained one hasn’t moved from its spot, but it’s watching me. I recognize the difference in it immediately. It’s terrifyingly calm and unnaturally still.
The Drained in the woods would not be waiting. They don’t have that same intelligence in their eyes. This beast is something else. Real fear bolsters me.
“I went to the nest where they found this thing.” Stefan’s voice is ecstatic with menace. “You should see how it fucks. You think your Henry is a savage?” He whistles low. “He’s got nothing on what that Breeder will do to you, but I bet you’ll love it. After all, you were sent here to be bred like a little traitor whore.”
I don’t break eye contact with the beast, and for a moment, I wonder if it has more humanity than the men dangling me here.
Normally, I would stand and fight, but this is a scenario where I really need a distraction.
“Why do you keep trying to kill me?” I ask.
“The first time it wasn’t personal,” Stefan says, as if sending someone to murder me was only a minor insult. “I was testing Henry because defending you would make him look bad, but so would allowing you to be attacked.
You were just a means to an end. But after that, I would have had nothing against you. I think we would have been good together, but you had to humiliate me instead. I couldn’t let that stand.”
I test Stefan’s hold by shoving my chest a little farther forward. It has the desired effect.
Stefan shifts to pull me up, and I throw all my weight back at once, pushing off the railing with all my might and arching my back. I slam into Stefan, and he stumbles. Joe and his other friend catch him.
Joe is on me instantly, but I’m ready for him. I duck his swipe and stab my blade into his side. He elbows me in the chest, stunning me enough that my heel catches on my ripped hem.
I grab Joe for support, but the movement drags him off balance. He’s
much taller, so when he hits the railing, he tips right over.
My relief lasts a split second—until he grabs my waist and we both tumble down to the floor below.
